


Born to Love and Be Loved

by QueenAnnoyance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura and shiro have kids, Allura's Diplomatic Talent, BAMF Keith, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Galra Empire, Galra Keith (Voltron), Happy Ending, Keith needs to let himself love, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), War General Keith, War General Shiro, keith and shiro are rich, keith emotional baggage would surpass the weight limit at the airport, keith is tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:06:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAnnoyance/pseuds/QueenAnnoyance
Summary: Keith has worked hard to achieve everything he has, but there is something missing. Keith struggles to accept that the empty dull ache he feels in his chest is longing for a certain blue eyed boy.Amidst war and conflict, Keith and Lance admit their love for each other.





	1. Heart Sick and Love Longing

**Author's Note:**

> im just testing out different forms of dialogue and working on how how to write emotion the most accurately that i can.

There is a burning want, a burning need, present in a person from the moment of birth, where newborn babes, highly susceptible to emotion that they are not yet in control of and running on a high of deep intuition, notice its strong presence. So, they cry, too young to comprehend what it is that they need, but it is what only a mother and father can offer to a child. It’s enough, for the time being that is. As one grows older, growing accustomed to feeling, that feeling becomes a dull presence, deep in one’s mind, desensitized and so, no longer does it have any importance. But that dull ache becomes a nagging thing. With age comes accomplishment. And what if someone is overly accomplished? There is no hunger for any other thing, and graciously, that unnamed need present in most humans makes itself known once again. And what if a person goes about life with too much time passed without seeking this need. They develop a sickness of the heart.

It is in a grand palace of marble and gold leaf, a testament of ambition and achievement, where a man takes residency, suffering needlessly of heart sickness. Pale, the sun and him are only acquainted, not familiar enough for the star’s intimate light to kiss his skin to a glowing hue. His almond eyes can be argued to be the impossible color of violet, the type of violet that indicates power and ambition, but today they solemnly look at a copper skinned man. Now this man, he is truly acquainted with the sun that a lover would be jealous of the marks heaven’s light have left freckled across his cheeks and nose. He sits on the grass, unmindful of the stains on his beige pants, holding a porcelain teacup being filled with apple juice by a little girl with white cotton hair while he converses with a stuffed bear across from him. 

“He’s good with children, isn’t he?”

Violet eyes meet a pale blue of a tall woman, white hair and blue eyes, carrying a small dozing child to her breast. 

“Allura.” He acknowledges her with a small nod of the head before turning his attention back to the window. 

“How much longer will you allow yourself to suffer when there’s no need to?”

Letting out a sigh, he turns and begins his path down the velvet carpeted hallway, not bothering with a response. He knows how these conversations always end. Still, he hears the quite mutter of her voice.  
“You can allow yourself a bit of happiness, Keith.”

Keith is a powerful man, power that was not inherited solely through name or relations, but a through earning a reputation that makes a man fear at the name Kogane. Bastard son of rebel, they would say, his poor mother ruined the family name. Keith was anything but an embarrassment. He worked as a stable boy for Takashi Shirogane, war general and orphan son of a wealthy man, where he came to know the stern man and fell in his favor. Shiro gave him everything, not because they had come to consider each other brothers, but because he saw something in Keith and allowed him the opportunity to prove himself. 

In his study room, Keith stood at a map, army bases and stationed troops labeled and scattered about, strategically placed. In his hand was Shiro’s family crest embedded in a gold coin, a gift to Keith when he welcomed him as family and as his most trusted advisor. He twirled it between his fingers, rubbing the surface with his thumb, a deep line between his brow. If not for his own selfish reason to fill the gap Shiro had left at his disappearance, Keith would find him, for his sister-in-law who awaits his return with Takashi’s two daughters, the youngest which he had yet to meet. He was called out to lead troops to raid an enemy base, Allura had only been a couple of months pregnant when he was left, and barley showing when she got a letter explaining that Shiro was missing in action. Everyone thought him dead, but Allura and Keith knew better, knew the man to be stubborn enough that death wouldn’t take him before he was old and ready. Allura used her abilities as a diplomat to form alliances and gather intel, Keith lead the search parties and took over Shiro’s position until his return. It’s been almost a year. 

The door to the studies flew open, oak wood slamming with force against the wall at their abrupt opening. Instinctively, Keith placed himself in a battle-ready stance, hand at his pistol. The tiny girl flung herself at Keith’s arm knowing he would catch her as always and giggled when he did. 

“I thought you had an import tea party to attend with Duke Charles?” Keith indulged her. Duke Charles was her favorite stuffed bear, carried it with her everywhere she went. White curls framed her face, cheeks red from no doubt having ran from the courtyard all the to his studies. In one hand she dangled Charles and in the other she clutched a thoroughly squished bunch of daisies. She placed the daisies in his hair and Keith, despite the tiredness that clung to every part of his being, allowed himself to smile. If only the Blades of Marmora could see him like this, they would never let it go.

“Celeste wanted to pick daisies for you,” a laughter filled voice interrupted, “she nearly made off with all the daisies in the garden.” 

Lance jogged up to them; he plucked a giggling Celeste from Keith’s arms, who than hid a tiny yawn by burying her face in Lance’s neck and held her bear closer. There was a clear confidence to his steps and a close familiarity to Keith, unheard of among the other servants who seemed as if they were walking on glass when their Lords were present, always lingering at a doorway before hesitantly entering or waiting to be acknowledged and invited in. Then again, Lance was never familiar with the proper etiquette that a servant must know nor the way he should properly act when among those of Keith’s social status. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, when he offered Lance a home at their estate, he truly meant a home and not just a place of work. 

They had met on one of Keith’s missions to scout for Shiro and encountered a village by the sea being terrorized by enemy Galra forces trying to gain the land. I was an agricultural village, the Galra had wanted to capture the residents and burn the food supply that the village provided to neighboring towns. It was rush of movement, smoke and fire where ever he turned, gun powder in his lungs. Crowds of people rushed past him in a furry, trying to board as many people on the ships as could.

“Get as many as you can on the ships,” Keith shouted to his men, “The rest of you hold the enemy back as long as you can!”

Keith had turned only to come face to face with a galra solder about to swing a dagger at him, but there was a loud blast them smoke. The soldier fell. He turned his head where the bullet was fired, perched on a roof top refiling the gun with powder was slender man who only gave give a wink and smug look before aiming and shooting. Again and again and again, more of the galra fell, but there was barely a dent in the enemy forces. It wasn’t until most of the civilians where on ships, no doubt heading to the nearby neighboring island where they would seek refuge, did Keith speak to the man face to face. He had ditched the gun and only held onto a small dagger, sure suicide against the Galra’s guns.

“Ran out of bullets.” He responded with a shrug, as if reading Keith’s thoughts.

“Listen, you need to get to the ship now or it’ll leave without you.” Keith’s words where slurred, panting with fatigue, sweat blurring his vison. 

Like a switch, the mans casual deminer changed, he stood taller, pulling his shoulders back as if trying to use his height to intimidate the general despite his thin lean frame. 

“My family is on the ship and the Galra are still coming. Let it sail without me, I'll be more at easy once I can no longer see it, once they are out of reach from the Galra. My work isn’t done here.” His words struck a cord in Keith, he didn’t have the time to question why he cared so much about a man he knew nothing of. In an attempt to intimidate the boy, he let his more Galra half of his being slip through his actions. With a rough push he slammed the man against the wall, baring his teeth with a growl, crowding him.

“It’s a suicide mission.” Keith expected some sort of reaction. Usually people shrank away at the sight of his fangs, at the slight tinting of purple on his skin, at his symptoms of being a beast hybrid. Instead, the man just pushed into his space, no words. Keith recognized this in most of his soldiers. The behavior of someone unafraid and willing to do anything; it was he behavior of a soldier in an untrained peasant farmer. He just scoffed and turned away; let him do as he pleased. 

“Ima go put the little princess to bed,” he smiled down in amusement at the girl half asleep in his arms. “Keith…do you need anything.” The question was whispered, gentle and quiet as one would approach an unpredictable animal. Keith couldn’t blame him, he hadn’t been himself lately. The more time went on the more cornered he felt, he could feel time running out, slipping through his hands. 

“Just tea, Lance.” He responded, his voice gruff and dry, he swallowed.

“You that’s not what I mean-“

“-That’ll be all. You’re dismissed.”

Keith trembled, a coursing thunder of emotion shook his body as he watched the dejected man walk away. It was surreal, as if the man he met on the battle field was nonexistent in the man before him; the man that walked his garden grounds, made sweat tea in the kitchen, and flirted with the maids. The soldier in the battle field had been an unmovable war machine, a predator amongst others. Rabid. Gore at his feet and sweat tangled in his hair. He invited him into his home as a guest, shelter after the ship had left; the enemy had retreated but the village scorched. Neither of them had considered it to be a victorious battle. Somber, Lance had wandered through the halls and Keith pretended not to hear muffled sobbing from his quarters, longing to see his family, only a hope that his family had made it in good health. Now, he wasn’t that war machine. No. He was the man who winked at the chamber maids and loved to talk about dresses and make up with Allura. He played pretend with Celeste and cared for tiny baby Angelica when Allura was having couldn't bring herself to leave the bed when those repressed emotions of fear and thoughts of Shiro swallowed her whole. He wore soft white and baby blues and stubbornly insisted on helping around the estate despite being a guest. He was the light and humor that lifted the dreary fog from the residence. 

There it was again. That deep ache from his chest, the burning feeling of need that Keith told himself he could not comprehend what it meant. He knew, Allura knew, the maids that gossiped to each other knew. Heart sickness. He knew. Denial was a hell of a drug. 

When Lance had returned to the studies with a pitcher of overly sweetened sweet tea rattling with melting ice, he found him with books tossed about and shattered glass. For the first time Keith saw him hesitate by the door. Lance set the tray of tea of lemon bars in front of him, pouring it into a glass. Keith watched the dew form outside the glass and slide down the side. He didn’t look at him. 

“I know you're loaded and everything, but that no reason to destroy stuff all willy nilly,” He gave a humorless laugh as he bent down to pick up the books and place them on the shelves, “you should be kinder to your possessions, the maids are getting tired cleaning up your messes… I guess the only acceptable excuse to make such a mess is in the event of a party –That would be fun. Everyone has been working so hard- you included- Lord knows everyone needs a break now and then-” 

“Lance, leave it.” Keith said quietly as he noticed him kneel to gather the glass shards from the corner of his eye.

“-it's no trouble. But really, consider a dinner party with those small cakes that take way too long to make even though they’re kinda worth it-“

“Dammit, Lance! I said leave it!” In a fit of rage he flung the pitcher into a shelf. It shattered, the only sound in the deathly quiet room was the sound of the impact and the tea dripping onto the books. He immediately regretted his childish tantrum. He looked towards Lance, whose face was down cast, refusing to look at him, hands trembling. His hands had never trembled, even in battle when they pressed a knife to the neck of the Galra. Keith slumped on the floor, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers tugging harshly at his loose hair. “I’ve made you afraid of me…” he said more to himself than for anyone else’s ears.

What must he think of him know. He saw him as a leader, the legacy that carries Shirogane’s honor, in control of his men and the war. But now? He was a shell of the man that he used to be, his whole person was consumed by an erratic panic and fear of never finding Shiro, never finding him alive. He was a scared boy, playing dress up in his older brother’s coat, waving around a toy gun and wooden sword. He couldn’t even control himself. His fits of anger a testament of lost battles with himself. His shoulders shook with restraint, his eyes burned, and in his throat he felt a lump he couldn’t swallow down. He let out a wailing sob that rattled him to the core when he felt slim arms wrap around him, felt himself being enveloped by warmth and the scent of sea breeze and gardenia flowers. He felt Lance shake too. Felt dew drop tears on his neck where Lance buried his face.

And they stayed like that. The flood of unspoken emotion flooded inside them, overflowing into tears and sharp inhales at the struggle to intake air. When they had tired themselves, they stayed, unmoving. Keith turned his head away from Lance, rubbing the sleeve of his coat under his nose as he sniffled. 

“Keith…,” Lance sighed tiredly, “I could never be afraid of you. I never have been. I’m…I’m angry, you know. I’m so angry, Keith, but not at you. I’m angry that you think you can’t allow yourself to just feel things. It’s okay to feel afraid or lost. Especially around us. We’re you’re family- all of us. You might not consider us to be besides Allura and the princesses, but the rest of the household cares about you. You can allow yourself to feel vulnerable in your own home.”

He rubbed his hands on Keith’s arms and back, encouraging to look at him. When Keith final faced him, his eyes were puffy and red. Dried tear tracks on his cheeks, new tears leaking from the corners. His face scrunched up again after meeting Lance’s own tired ones, brows pulled together and eyes squinting shut. His lips were pulled back to show fangs, as if he was still fighting against himself, fighting against a barrage of emotions. Lance pulled Keith to lean against him, maneuvering his head to tuck it in his chest and he tangled his slender earthy hands through his black hair. They stilled smelled faintly of daisies.

“No one expects you to be strong all the time and... and unaffected. I know you think yourself to be a beast, but you don’t see the rebel Galra as beasts, so why do you label yourself as one. You still feel and bleed like the rest of us.”

He pulled away after a while, not trusting himself to not selfishly steal Lances time and comfort like he has. He pulled himself up and swayed on his feet from exhaustion. Lance grabbed a hold of his arms and together they stumbled their way to Keith’s room. Keith fell asleep the minute his head hit the sheets. Lance smiled softly, a gentle quiet smile. He pulled off Keith’s leather shoes and pulled off his coat. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt to loosen the collar, stopping at the fifth button, afraid it would be improper to go further. Tucking him in quickly, he pushed back strands of black hair away from his forehead and placed the ghost of a kiss there before retreating to his own chambers.

Keith felt the hair on his neck and arms stand when he awoke. They’re was a shift in the air, an undefinable shift. He remembered the events of last night. He closed his eyes tight for a second, trying to convince himself that it was just a dream. When he failed, he sat up, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he swung the covers of his legs and got up. He didn’t remember taking his coat off.... He peaked hesitantly around the room, the first light of dawn peering curiously through open curtains. He was confused and on edge, the servant in charge of his quarters always woke him before opening the windows. Then they would go through the day’s schedule. The windows were open, the gentle breeze waking up the rest of his senses, but there were no signs of the servant nor the retreating scent of his presence. Instead, sea breeze and gardenia lingered. He told himself it was from the gardens outside of his window, the scent carried by morning breeze.

When he entered the washroom the bath was made, still warm. Steam rose through the various petals and slices of citrus fruits. The smell of lavender water lured him into the bath, sighing as the warmth relaxed his muscles. Fighting against his droopy eyes, he finished his bath, reaching for the robe folded neatly next to the tub. As he dressed, fixing the cuffs of his shirt, the smell of food flooded the house. Quickly, he slipped on leather shoes and scurried down the spiral stairs, taking note of how unusually quiet and devoid of movement the house was. Mornings were always filled with maids brushing past him with a quick “Good morning, sir,” as they went about their daily duties. When he got to the kitchen, his mind settled. Lance was there setting a basket of different pastries. There was already a bowl of fruit and cheese on the table. He pulled out a chair slowly, sending Lance a questioning look that the man ignored with a smile as he placed a cup of hot chocolate sweetened with vanilla, sugar, and milk in front of his plate. 

“Lance, look, about last night…”

“I meant everything I said, Keith, you know that.” Keith nodded, taking a bite of sweet bread and finishing his breakfast quietly, deciding to not address it for a lack of words. When he finished, he caught Lance’s hand when he tried to pick up Keith’s plate. 

“What are you doing, Lance? Where is everyone? Where’s Allura and the girls?” He hoped that the pleading look he sent Lance was enough to get some answers. 

“I'm cleaning up, obviously. Allura told the staff to take the day off so they’re probably all in the servant's quarters. As for Allura and the girls, she decided to head into town and do some shopping. She wanted you to have the day off. Are you gonna let me pick this up, because if I don’t no one else will.” 

Hesitantly, he released Lance’s hand, blushing from embarrassment when he finally realized what he was doing. He followed Lance into the kitchen, watching him dump the plates into a small tub with soap water. 

“Was it Allura’s idea, or yours?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Here,” Lance handed him a rag, “at least help me dry off these plates.”

“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you,” he wiped down each plate, cup, and bowl, “…is this about last night. The truth, Lance, please.” Lance flinched slightly, resenting how transparent he was. 

“Kind of. I wanted you to have the day off, okay,” he tossed the rag on the counter, fixing him with some type of look that Keith couldn’t figure out, “Allura and I decided that you're pushing yourself too much. I never met Shrio but-“

“Yeah, you haven’t” he growled. 

“-don’t be an asshole. You talk about him so much, everyone does. I want him to come home as much as anyone else does. I want to be able to meet this man and I want you to be happy, Keith. But with the way you have been over working, it’s time for you to just take a day off, you can afford it trust me. As for why I'm here? Well,” Lance gave him a signature smirk, “no one really trusts you to be left to your own devices.” 

“You know what? Fine. Alright. I’ll play along, but on one condition.” Lance lit up once again.

“Anything.”

“This,” Keith waved around the rag and gestured to Lance and the sink, “has to stop. I don’t want to be stuck here and have you tripping over your feet to make sure I’m happy. You’re my friend, not my personal servant.”

“Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> expect updates but short chapters. college continues to be a complete and utter bitch

Lance had insisted that the first order of business of the day was to walk through the gardens: vast rows of roses and lilies lined cobble stone, the petals acting as tiny wells, collecting morning dew. They walked side by side, closer to one another that it was difficult for someone to see where one ended and the other began. Keith carried a small bag of old bread, too old to eat, upon Lance’s request. He had been confused till they neared one of the pounds, filled with an array of fish and a family of ducks furiously paddling away. They say near the edge, throwing bread crumbs close by, becoming the ducks to come closer. 

“How its it that you can be surrounded by such a peaceful place, and yet not at peace.”

Keith took in a deep breath, “it doesn’t feel right for me… to be here feeding ducks and not finding my brother while he’s, he’s out there- God knows in what condition, and I can’t…”

“Keith, look at me,” Lance placed a hand, gently wiping at a stray tear with his thumb, “it won’t do anyone any good to see you completely destroy yourself from the inside out. It won’t do me any good if there is nothing of you left…” Keith leaned into his touch; his turbulent mind put slightly at ease at the care of Lance’s hands. 

“I’m not scared of losing myself… of crumbling completely. I’ve built an empire with too weak a foundation, but you rebuild me from the dust I leave behind. Each and every time I collapse in on my own weight, you’re there. Whether that’s fair or not for me to lean so heavily on you is something I hardly concern myself with. I’m selfish, Lance. And the funny part is you don’t even know.” It was as if the someone popped that cork on a bottle, abruptly spewing everything inside. With a sudden jerk, he pulled away and stood. Posture ready as if for a fight, but his back towards Lance, it was clear he wasn’t the one defending himself against. Was Keith’s heart so ill that a fever, a running warmth, plagued his cheeks with red whenever he was near the blue-eyed man. 

“You’re a fool if you think you’re the selfish one,” Lance stood, making his step loud as so to alert Keith of his approach before wrapping his arms around his midsection and resting his lips on the nape of his neck, “you brought me home to your family in an act of pity, or responsibility, I never do know your exact thought process if im being honest. You brought me home and told me to build myself a life here, and I did- and im so grateful. But I didn’t stop taking. I took and took and took. I took myself a small place within your family, wedged myself there before I even knew myself what I was doing. I took everything you offered me and built my home in you. Somewhere between that battle and seeing you at the dinning table filling up on way too many sweets… I noticed you. Really noticed you. I noticed the way you’re afraid of showing anger because you’re scared of loosing control. I know your favorite color is blue even though everyone thinks its red. I notice the way you will throw yourself into the fire for your family and im so scared. Im so scared that one day you will and you won’t return because somewhere the war and having breakfast with you… I fell in love with you Keith Kogane. My mouth has been kept shut in fear of losing everything, but I cant keep this up anymore. I need to know. I need to know if you love me too.”

When Keith turned, there was an emotion rarely seen In Keith. Fear and love and, for the first time, a lack of restraint or shields. Keith dove into the kiss, capturing Lances lips with his own, a furiousness that came with promise and devotion. He clung to the soft blues of Lance’s cuffs, calloused fingers gripping his wrists with a deep terror of losing him, as if his hands would go through tan skin, a worry that the man before him was a mirage, a feverish delusion. Lance kissed him back, equal in force, allowing Keith to feel him and prove that he was here and real. The lack of air and the desperation of their lungs never felt so satisfying before.

“So,” a stupid grin brightened blue eyes, “does this me you love me too?”

“Kogane.”

Keith placed himself in front of Lance without thinking only to see that it was Kolivan. Off in the distance, by the entrance of the estate was a carriage. 

“Kolivan? Not that im not glad to see you but could you give us a moment?” There was that feverish blush on his cheeks again.

Kolivan shook his head, “we have intel; we need to go.”

The question of what he was referring to was unnecessary. With a helpless look back to the boy he was previously kissing, Keith began to hesitantly depart. Lance reassured him with an aching smile and a nod. Unspoken words between two beings connected beyond the use of words. He quickly made his way back to the mansion, rigid in the way we walked, leaving Lance and Kolivan.

Once Keith was out of hearing range, that soldier that existed in such a soft person made an appearance, “Bring him home in one piece or so help me God…”

Before long, the vast blues of the sky retreated, scurrying away from an imposing grey. Clouds, looking delicate as cotton cushions, promised a heavy storm. Keith was long gone, and Lance promised to be here with Allura. A carriage pulled up, a chattering girl hauling a new porcelain doll and Allura with a babbling baby who gargled at nothing.

“Look, Lance,” Celeste held the doll up for him to see, “her name is Abby!”

“She’s really pretty, Celeste, just like you. I made you your favorite desert, but don’t tell your mother,” Lance winked at Allura, “It’s on dining table, hurry!” 

Allura sensed an unease in Lance’s casual posture and tightened smile. She shifyed her tiny baby in her arms, “Where’s my brother-in-law?”

“Shiro. Kolivan had intel, very reliable intel. It’s almost certain that they’ll find… This might be the mission where Keith doesn’t return alone.” He helped her walk up the mansions stairs. She barley made it to a seat before she collapsed in a mess of tears, fighting for the intake of air. 

This might be the mission where neither returns at all.


End file.
